


Pieces

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship / Flirting / Thinking of You Fest, Resolved Sexual Tension, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 4.5, UST, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My ficlet collection for <b>Season 4.5</b>. These include future fics that occur after Season 4 in general as well as what Oliver and Felicity are up to over the summer between Season 4 and Season 5 of Arrow.</p><p>Most are prompt-based and range from fluffy silliness, to extreme UST, to relatively dangerous angst, to smut. As a result, this collection is rated <i>Explicit</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Say When (post-S4)

**Author's Note:**

> I always accept prompts, although I cannot guarantee quick turn-around! [Send me an ask on Tumblr!](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/askme)
> 
> The title of this collection is based on **Pieces** by Red.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several months after the end of Season 4, Oliver and Felicity finally go on a date. Based on a Twitter conversation with Sarah and Jo about when Felicity presses her face into Oliver's shoulder (you know the thing she does.)

She shivered.

It was so tiny that he probably shouldn’t have noticed it, shouldn’t have felt it like he was the one shivering, but he did where her shoulder brushed against his as they walked down the street.

Oliver almost moved - he almost grabbed her hand, almost wrapped his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer… His muscles twitched to do _something_ , but a wave of uncertainty had him pausing and before he could do anything they weren’t ready for, he shoved his hands into his pockets, making tight fists to keep himself from reaching out for her. His fingers _itched_ to do it, to chase the cold away, to share the heat she used to curl into… but they didn’t do that anymore, and they hadn’t for a long, long time.

It wasn’t long enough to erase the urge though, or the desire.

Oliver pressed his lips into a thin line, a thread of anxiety winding through him.

What if he didn’t catch himself, what if he touched her, moved for her, leaned in because he wasn’t thinking, and _god_ , what would she do? It’d probably ruin everything before it’d even started.

It only made him more nervous than he already was.

 _A date._ They were going out on a date, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He had no idea if it was going to be everything they’d tried before - before, when he’d asked her to dinner, and she’d said yes, when they’d met at the restaurant, both so nervous but still riding that wave of excitement and happiness that they were finally _there_ \- or if it’d be like after, when they’d skipped right past when he’d asked her to go away with him, when they’d gone from nothing to everything in the space of a second.

He had no idea what tonight was going to be like, and it was making him question his every move.

After months of cool attitudes finally melting into pleasant words before morphing into cautious conversation, he’d finally worked up the courage to ask her out, to see if she’d be open to dinner. With him. Just them. At least he thought he’d worked the courage up - the question had come out in halted breaths like he’d spent the previous twenty minutes racing up and down stairs. Nerves had had his lungs turning to stone and his legs dissolving into Jello as a trundle of butterflies slammed into the walls of his stomach.

He hadn’t thought it was possible to be as nervous as he has been when he’d first asked her out, but he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.  He’d been _more_ nervous, because the what-if was so much more different now, and so much more rode on it.

But then he’d been even _more_ wrong because when he’d finally gotten the words out, she’d just stared at him. He’d almost thrown up right there as she did absolutely nothing; she’d sat there, looking pale, eyes wide. A heavy minute had passed, his palms sweating and his mouth feeling like it was coated in sandpaper before he’d started saying, _“I’m sorry, you don’t have to…”_

 _“Okay,”_ she interrupted, her voice just as breathless as he felt.

_“Okay?”_

_“Yeah. Yeah… okay.”_

And so there they were… and he had absolutely no idea what to do.

That feeling only quadrupled when his instinct turned out to be correct. Felicity shivered again, but she didn’t push herself closer, didn’t wiggle her way under his arm to push her face into his chest, or push herself up on her toes to press her chilly nose to his neck as they walked. She didn’t turn to him for warmth. Instead, she let out a tiny, “Oh,” before she scrunched her shoulders up against the chill in the air, biting her bottom lip, shifting the jacket she carried draped over her arm.

“Are you cold?” Oliver asked, the words out before he could stop them, sounding so tentative it was ridiculous. And then his words caught up with him. _Idiot_. Of _course_ she was cold, she was shivering. He’d never really had to worry about it before, not like this. She was more prone to chills than anyone he knew because she was so stationary. How many times had he wrapped her cold fingers up in his, blowing warm air on them, making her giggle? How many times had he rolled his eyes playfully when she pushed her chilly toes under the band of his sweats? He _knew_ she got cold, they _both_ knew it.

It was just that now he couldn’t reach over and pull her closer, press a kiss into her as he cuddled her closer, like before. It wasn’t helping that it was so unseasonably cold; the icy air from the low bank of clouds that’d been hanging over the city since that morning made him regret suggesting they walk to the restaurant instead of drive. And he wasn’t wearing a jacket either, so he couldn’t offer her anything. The thought of having on more layers for him to sweat under had been too suffocating when he’d finally left the bunker.

“A little,” Felicity replied. She rubbed her arms. “I think Star City forgot how to act in Spring.” She stopped. “Let me just…”

Oliver stopped abruptly, biting the tip of his tongue as he looked at her. He wanted to offer to take her purse, or help with her jacket, but that uncertainty from earlier reared its ugly head, and he just… froze. Part of him knew that he should do _something_ , but he didn’t know where the lines were anymore, he wasn’t sure what he could do or couldn’t, and the thought of inadvertently pushing her away when all he wanted to do was hold her close…

It was paralyzing.

And then Felicity set her purse on the ground.

She didn’t ask him to hold it, or hold it out expectantly. She didn’t even look at him. It was amazing how the simple act of her setting her purse on the ground instead of asking him to hold it, of her putting on her own jacket, of her pulling her ponytail out of the collar, buttoning it up… it was amazing how much that affected him.

Oliver closed his eyes, mentally berating himself. He was being _ridiculous_ , he knew that; he just couldn’t escape the feeling of not knowing how to act or what to say, and when she did something like that, something he used to help her with…

He looked up, spotting the button to cross the street a few paces away. _There_. Simple, easy.

“I’ll just, uh…” he started, pointing at it awkwardly before stepping over, hitting the button a few times. It was old and a little rusted, groaning loudly - he wondered if she could tell how nervous he was from the way he nearly pushed the damn thing right through the pole.

Oliver could fight League-trained assassins masquerading as his best friend’s father; mirakuru-laced men, one of whom he’d thought of as a brother before he’d become bent on ruining his life; Ra’s Al Ghul trying to take everything precious to him away, including his life; and magically-enhanced men trying to wipe out Star City altogether. He could do _all_ of that, but when it came to Felicity?

She stripped everything away, leaving nothing but _him_. But Oliver Queen. And for some reason the fact that she knew that man better than anyone made this all the more terrifying.

He needed to stop _thinking_ so damn much.

Oliver didn’t hear her moving again, not until she sidled up next to him.

Felicity slid her hand into his, wrapping her around him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

He stopped breathing, barely blinking, his chest suddenly feeling really, really full. The move was so practiced, so quiet and intimate… _familiar_. Warmth filled him as they leaned into each other; he squeezed her hand, his throat closing with an emotion he hadn’t let himself feel in a long, _long_ time, and she held him closer, breathing him in.

Joy burst inside him in a heady rush as he looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed, looking every bit like she was just as caught up as he was. How long has it been since he’d seen her like this, letting go, relaxing into him, knowing he’d hold her up no matter what?

Tears burned his eyes and Oliver turned to her, his free hand coming up to cup her face as he pressed his lips to her forehead. She was so soft and warm and _perfect_ and they melted into each other, sighing at the same time. Felicity dug her nails in, holding on tighter as he slid his fingers through the gentle strands of her hair, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

They stayed like that for a long while, neither willing to move.

“Felicity,” Oliver whispered, his voice cracking. He pulled back, prompting her to, and her face crumpled when their eyes met. He shifted, his hand sliding down to her neck, his thumb following her jaw, tilting her face up to his… He leaned closer, holding his breath

Oliver paused, waiting.

Felicity closed the distance, her lips meeting his with a breathy whimper he felt in his bones.

The last time they’d kissed it’d been in a fit of anger, a reaction to Laurel’s death as much as it was the frustration and hopelessness they’d been swimming in with Darhk. It’d been rough and ugly - _painful_ \- by the time they’d been finished, they hadn’t even been able to look at the other.

But this… Oliver couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this. It was _beautiful_ , and it took his breath away just as much as it settled him. This was where he was meant to be, always.

The kiss stayed simple, quiet… effortless. They simply existed in each other’s arms, familiarizing themselves, relearning, just as much realizing they both remembered very well what the other felt like.

God, he’d missed her so much. The last several months had been pure torture, having to learn a different way of life, of having to be near her without being _with_ her… but it’d been worth it, because it got him here, to this moment.

For the first time, the gentle hope that filled him left him optimistic instead of terrified.

They slowly pulled back, neither of them letting go.

“Oliver…” she whispered. “I…”  

He waited, waited for the words he knew he shouldn’t get that night, and when she didn’t finish it, a wave of anxiety slammed into him. Was it too soon? A resounding _yes_ echoed through his head, but still…

A tiny smile pulled at her lips. “I’m really glad you asked.”

He laughed. “Me too.” He shook his head, taking a deep breath - he smelled the crisp air, gasoline from passing cars, a food cart a block away, and her. It was so different from the bits he’d gotten before, the hints of her perfume, the reminder that she was there, but not with him. Except now she was. “God, me too. I’m glad you said yes.”

Felicity didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched on until she tilted her face up towards him, her lips brushing over his.

Her voice was barely a whisper, barely audible, but he caught it: “I missed you.”

Oliver stared at her, drinking her in. “You have no idea.”

They finally made it to the restaurant, a half hour late, but they still got their table, the Queen name and being the Mayor holding the right amount of sway.

As they ordered their drinks - him a scotch, her a Cabernet \- Oliver couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“What?” she asked, almost sounding nervous herself. That made him nervous, but in a good way, a very, very good way. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

Oliver chuckled. “I was just… thinking.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow. “About?”

“You always did that,” he said, instantly realizing his words could mean anything, especially when she furrowed her brow in question. “I mean, when you… when you come up to me, you… you press your face…”

He had no idea how to word what he was saying, but he didn’t have to - she knew.

Felicity’s face softened. She ducked her head, her cheeks coloring.

“Right. That. I, uh…” She met his gaze, almost bashful. “You were always this… um… You were home. To me.” She smiled, _nervously_ , he realized, and he watched the color in her cheeks rise at whatever she saw in his face, but she didn’t stop, and he was so damn glad she didn’t. “I knew if I could just… do that, as long as I could… I knew that I was home.” Felicity laughed, the sound coming out in more of a snort. “As long as I could smell you doesn’t sound very romantic, does it?”

He just stared at her.

“You’re just…“ Felicity returned his gaze. “You’re home to me. You always have been.” She bit her lip, more than aware of the gravity of what she was saying as she whispered, “I feel like I’m finally coming home.”

Oliver moved. He didn’t think about what he was doing or where he was going, he just moved. He stood up, pushing his chair back, his eyes never leaving hers. Alarm filled her eyes for a split second before she realized he wasn’t going anywhere - he was going to her.

He rounded the table, kneeling next to her as she said, “Oliver, what…” but he didn’t let her finish.

Oliver cupped her face and kissed her, pouring everything into it. It was their last kiss, and the one before that, and all the kisses they’d shared put into one. It was the months they spent together, and the months spent apart, the years where they’d learned so much about each other, where they’d become associates, then friends, then partners… before becoming so much more.

The instant their lips touched, the room faded and it was just them… together.

It was _perfect_.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, to note the tears in her eyes as she looked at him in wonder, whispering, “I’m home too.” He laughed, the sound cracking with his own tears as he finished, “You are my home, Felicity, you always have been and you always will be. No matter what.

“Always and forever.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/143446671429/say-when-olicity-post-s4-ficlet)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	2. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - the-queenfamily: fever. Felicity gets hit with a poisonous dart. *Slight Angst Warning*

“Put me down.” 

Her voice was weak and strained, barely audible through her gritted teeth. She was burning up, growing hotter by the second in his arms, and even if he didn’t know she’d stumble and fall if he set her down, he wouldn’t, not like this. God, not ever. If this was the last time…  _No._ That wasn’t going to happen, no way. 

They had the antidote downstairs, or the closest thing to it, whatever she’d managed to put together in the last twelve hours. He hoped it’d work, because if it didn’t…

“ _Felicity_.”  


She whimpered.

The elevator seemed to be stuck in molasses for how fucking slow it was moving.

“Oliver… _please_ …”  


Despite her protests, she was clinging to him, one hand digging into his neck, the other holding onto his jacket like her life depended on it. And it did. His stomach twisted at that and he shook his head, shifting her closer, hissing when the hot skin of her forehead brushed his chin.

“Hold on, baby, we’re almost there. Just…” His voice dropped, his eyes closing. “Just hold on. Please.”  


He couldn’t lose her, not like this. Not with so much left unsaid, so much left unfinished between them. 

The violent urge to ram his fist into the wall rose in his chest at the thought of the last several weeks of walking on eggshells around each other, neither willing to push too hard, to say too much. The urge for more - to tell her how he felt, to ask her if her furtive glances and lingering touches meant more, _could_  mean more - it’d slowly grown inside him until it was all he could think about, all he could _see_  when he was around her. 

But he’d waited, telling himself there was a moment, a special moment.

It might have all been for nothing.  


_No._

“It’s too… hot,” she gasped, her voice heavy with tears.”I can’t…”  


“Hold on, Felicity, don’t you _dare_ say that.”

The elevator finally slid open and Oliver shot through it, running towards the medical bay. The jostling had her curling into him, gasping, and he cradled her closer for a split second before setting her down. Felicity hissed when the cool metal table touched her bare shoulders and legs. She arched away from it, like it was burning her, her face twisted in agony. He felt it just as surely as if it were happening to him, but somehow this was worse. He touched her forehead, not wanting to leave her. Her skin seared his palm and he whispered a desperate, “Damn it,” before looking around.

He’d seen her making it _somewhere._ It had to be…  

 _T_ _here_. 

Felicity’s weak fingers wrapping around his wrist was the only thing that stopped him from darting over to her workstation. He leaned down, pressing his lips to her hand - she was too hot, way too hot - before unwinding her grip.

Oliver had never moved so fast in his life. He reached the desk, nearly sending a microscope to the ground, shoving a handful of empty glass containers off anyway. They crashed, glass spraying everywhere, but he ignored it, grabbing the tiny bottle holding the antidote. He yanked open drawers left and right until he found a clean syringe.

Felicity’s gasps filled the room, urging him to move faster. He ran back to her as he ripped the plastic off the needle before shoving it into the bottle. He drew the liquid out and dropped it on the table next to her, not seeing it when it bounced off and crashed to the ground. 

He pushed Felicity’s dress up. 

It’d been _months_  since he’d done that, since he’d had any right to do it, and it made him sick to think that the only reason he was doing it now was to find the bright red spot where the poisoned dart had hit her. 

She writhed on the table, unable to stay still, and Oliver’s whispered, “Shh, Felicity… _shh_ ,” fell on deaf ears as he tried to hold her still. Her whimpers slowly grew into breathless cries of pain. Tears burned his eyes as he tried to hold her down without hurting her more, but it was useless.

With a soft, “I’m so sorry, honey,” he overpowered her, pinning her to the table. She screamed when the metal touched more of her. Her skin was alive with heat, and he knew he couldn’t waste another second. If he waited too long, if he didn’t get her cooled down.

Oliver’s hands were shaking as he positioned the needle over the tiny puncture hole. It had to go in at the point of impact, that was something they’d learned the hard way, with the other victims. But that was something _he_ was supposed to worry about, not her. He was the target, he was the bait. The entire fundraiser event had been designed to put him at the center, to get everyone’s eyes and attention on _him_ , the interim mayor, one of the most important political figures in the city.

_Not her._

Felicity keened, her nails clawing at the metal table. The pain lacing her every move, her every breath, ripped through him, slicing him up from the inside out.

Oliver clenched his jaw and held her tighter, so tight she started clawing at him as he pushed the needle through her skin. 

The change was instantaneous - the second the cool, light blue liquid entered her bloodstream, Felicity went limp. The life simply evaporated from her, as if it’d never been there.

The only thing he was aware of for a very long second was the sound of his own ragged breathing and the thump of one of her heels slipping off and falling to the ground.

He was frozen, and it lasted an eternity and the blink of an eye at the same time before reality slammed back into him.

She wasn’t waking up. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t doing _anything_.

“Felicity?” 

He dropped the needle, his hand landing on her leg. She was still way too hot and the spot where the dart had originally entered starting growing worse. Thin, ugly lines spread underneath her skin, looking way too much like blood poisoning. 

His voice grew louder as he nearly choked on her name, yelling it. He dragged his hands over her body - she was too damn hot, this wasn’t right, it was supposed to _work_  - before he cupped her face.

She didn’t respond.

“Felicity!”  


Some part of him, from somewhere buried deep inside, told him he needed to cool her down, and he needed to do it now. 

He barely remembered picking her up again. He didn’t remember the scalding warmth of her body or ramming his knee into the table as he spun towards the showers. The only thing he remembered - the only thing he’d remember for the rest of his life - was that when her head landed on his shoulder, her face turned in against his neck, she wasn’t breathing. 

She was still, perfectly still, and it was _terrifying_.

The next thing he knew he was yanking one of the shower stalls open and twisting the water on. A steady pound of water instantly slapped against the tiled floor. Oliver climbed in, ignoring the ice cold water sluicing over him, instead pushing Felicity into the stream. Her head lolled back and he gasped wildly, nearly dropping her in his haste to pull her back up, to make sure it didn’t get in her mouth or her nose. 

Water soaked through his tux, through her dress. It ruined her beautiful hair, leaving it to fall in a tangled mess over his arm as he held her, running his hand over her cheek and forehead. 

_She wasn’t waking up._

He didn’t hear himself begging her to not leave him, to stay with him, to open her eyes. He didn’t realize he was holding her so tightly, nor did he feel the hot burn of his tears sliding down his cheeks. The ashy taste of deja vu made his insides tighten to the point of pain, short spastic intervals shoving him back into the middle of that street when she’d gotten shot, when she’d been covered in blood, dying in his arms.

_No, no, no, not again, not again!_

And yet, somehow, the only thing that stood out in that moment was one thought: if she survived this, he wasn’t going to waste another second. If she opened her eyes, if she took a breath, if she would just _wake up_ , he was going to tell her everything. No more lies, no more hiding, no more wondering. It wasn’t worth it. God, it wasn’t worth it. But she was. And if that meant… whatever, whatever it meant, he didn’t even care.

As long as she just  _woke up._

“Please… please, please, please…”  


And then she did.

With a heady gulp of air, Felicity jerked against him. Her hands grappled for something to hold onto, her body turning into his. She could barely lift her head, barely do anything. Oliver gasped her name, cupping the back of her head before yanking her closer, as hard as he dared. 

_Oh god oh god oh god._

He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, coughing when he inhaled water. He let out a disbelieving laugh, glorying in her every breath, her every movement.

_She was alive._

“Oliver?” 

Her voice was reedy and she coughed, shivering. She _shivered_. He fell back against the wall, cradling her close. He touched her neck, her cheek, her forehead, her chest - she was cooling down, but it was rapid, almost too rapid.   


“Oliver…”  


His heart lurching, Oliver shoved himself forward.

“Hang on, hang on,” Oliver replied, stepping into the cold water. She hissed, damn near trying to crawl into him to get away from it as he turned the water up to something much closer to warm. 

He pulled her up, wrapping her in his arms, gripping her so tight his muscles started to fatigue. He ignored the weight of his clothes, the water running over his eyes, the sputter of their breaths in the water beating down on them, only caring about _her_.  


Only her.

Always her.

Soon enough, she started to warm, at least a little bit, and her shivers slowly died off.

He told himself to get her out of there, get her out of the water, but his body had other ideas. The adrenaline and fear and worry and pain, it all suddenly came back with a vengeance and he found himself falling back against the wall and then sliding to the ground. 

He slumped into the corner of the shower stall, pulling Felicity into his lap. Oliver curled her up, wrapping himself around her as much as he could, and she turned into him. She gripped his jacket, burying her face in his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.  


Felicity stiffened. 

“Not… for tonight,” he continued, shaking his head. “Although I am sorry for that too.” 

Oliver closed his eyes, pressing his lips to her forehead before dipping his head so his nose brushed against hers. She didn’t move, but she didn’t say anything either. He paused, already feeling the familiar urge to bite his tongue, to not push it, but this time he ignored it. 

“I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you that I love you.” Her breath hitched. “That losing you made me realize how stupid I was, that I can’t do this alone, that I can’t be everything… everything I want to be, without you by my side. Without telling you everything, about… about everything. About my day, about the stupid political shit with the SCPD, about how much I’m worried about John, or that… or the fact that I want to reach out and talk to William so bad, every single damn day. That I hate knowing my son is out there and I can’t be in his life.” 

She was silent and he wondered if she could tell the difference between the water and his tears.

“That just thinking I shouldn’t run and hide isn’t the same as _not_  running. That I never need to run from you, not ever. That I’m just… terrified, that the idea of letting you see all the darkness that’s still inside me makes me want to hide it even more.”  


Felicity finally pulled back. He made a noise of disagreement - she was weak, but he could feel her strength slowly returning. He held his breath, afraid of what he’d see… 

She looked up at him, and he’d never seen her look more beautiful than she did in that moment. He was pretty sure he thought that every single time he saw her, especially over the last several months,but this time it was true.

Because she was looking at him like…

Like she loved him. Like _before._

“But,” he whispered, his fingers trailing over her cheek, “the idea of losing you, of never even getting to have you in my life at all… That’s worse. It’s so much worse.”  


Her lips were trembling.

“I’m sorry it took this to finally say it,” he croaked. “But I love you, Felicity Smoak. I love you with everything in me and I want to give you… _everything_. Everything I am. You are my always, and I know… I know I need to earn it again, that I need to…”  


“Oliver,” she whispered. Her fingers covered his lips. He froze… and then she smiled. “You could’ve started by accepting my offer to take you to dinner.”  


His heart skipped about a hundred and twenty beats at that as anticipation and a dangerous amount of hope filled his chest.

Oliver furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner this weekend,” she said. Her voice was quiet, weary, but it was also happy. And she was _smiling_. “Or, if you wanted to cook for me, I wasn’t going to argue because…”  


He cut her off with a kiss.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/145689742954/fever)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	3. Sexy Lumberjack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Anonymous: 1 (chocolate) and 10 (not wearing that). Oliver is on his way to an event.

The sound of his footsteps had her looking up mid-bite and when she saw what he was wearing, she frowned around the chocolate between her lips. He saw it instantly and stopped.

“What?” he asked.

Felicity finished her bite, simultaneously delighting and hating the caramel coating her teeth as she looked him up and down. He looked down as well, following her perusal before looking up at her again.

“No good?”   


“You look like a sexy lumberjack about to chop down their mothers’ trees,” she replied, swallowing the chocolate, “not like the interim mayor who wants to read stories to children.” Felicity set down her half-eaten chocolate bite before making her way towards him. She licked her fingers, shaking her head as she added, “Not that it doesn’t work for you, because it does - like, really, really well - but I think you’re there more to support the kids, not give everyone sexy ideas.”

It was only when she stopped in front of him and finally looked up that she realized what she’d said. And she only realized _that_  because his eyebrows had gone up at some point and there was a high flush in his cheeks, one she hadn’t seen… in a _while_. A long while. A very long while. 

Because she didn’t say those types of things to him anymore.

“Oh!” Felicity’s jaw snapped shut. “Not…” She froze because _what the hell was she saying?_  “I didn’t mean…that, because that… is highly… the opposite of what I meant. I mean, plaid does look really good on your shoulders. But I wasn’t looking at them like that, because this…” She waved between them. “I was just…” 

She bit the tip of her tongue, closing her eyes before thinking, ‘ _Screw it’_. She was a grown-ass woman, what was wrong with her? Just because they used to date - and _wow_ , that was an understatement - didn’t mean she couldn’t still appreciate the goods - _from afar_ \- and be honest. 

Felicity Smoak was an honest person, _damn it_. 

“Alright, you look really amazing in plaid,” she said, “and I’m telling you right now you’re not wearing that because you don’t look mayoral, you look like… a lumberjack.”  


“A lumberjack, huh?” he repeated, and the amusement in his voice had her starting to glare at him. “That’s new. I don’t think you’ve ever called me that before.” And then she really _did_ glare at him, especially when he added, “What happened to the sexy part?”

Felicity opened her mouth to reply with… something - because that was so beside the point - but there was nothing. Because she’d just called Oliver sexy. And that was bad. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good. They weren’t like that anymore. Yes, he was sexy - and god, did he look _good_  - but they weren’t like that. Not anymore. 

“I am just… calling it like I see it, I guess,” she replied. _That_  was not what she’d wanted to say, _at all_. “I mean…”  


But instead of pushing her, he just smiled. Oliver ducked his head slightly - _he was blushing_ \- before he looked back at her. 

He lifted his finger, brushing it over his cheek. “You have a little…”

She wiped her face, joking, “Embarrassment with a side of ‘shut your mouth self’?”  


Oliver laughed, and it was a _real_ laugh, the likes of which she hadn’t seen in a long, long time. It made her smile, easing the _‘what the hell am I doing’_ feeling blanketing her as he shook his head. 

“No. You have chocolate, right…” He brushed his cheek again. _Oh._ Her hand flew up so fast she practically smacked herself. She wiped her face a little too hard before looking down at her hand to see if she’d caught the offending stray chocolate, but her hand was clean. His smile grew. “You missed it.”

“Where…”  


“Here.” Oliver touched his cheek again, and when she wiped that spot - she was pretty sure it was that spot - her hand was still clean. “Can I…?”

“What?” she asked, looking up. His eyes were glued to a spot on her cheek and his hand was coming up, like he wanted to… _oh_. “Uh… okay. Yeah.”  


His touch was light as a feather. He cupped her cheek just enough, just enough for her to _feel it_ , and then his thumb brushed over the corner of her mouth. Despite herself, Felicity’s eyes fluttered shut as he wiped the chocolate away. He was warm, and he smelled _good._  So good. His skin was just like she remembered it, all soft callouses that made her shiver when they…

Oliver pulled his hand away and her eyes snapped open.

“Got it,” he whispered.  


“Thanks,” she managed, swallowing. She barely remembered thinking the word, much less saying it. “I guess I was kinda making out with that chocolate.”  


His response was for the pink in his cheek to deepen, for his eyes to darken, his pupils widening… 

And oh boy, _what was she doing?_  

Once again though, he saved her. 

With a wink, Oliver said, “The sexy lumberjack to the rescue,” before turning around to go change, leaving her standing in the middle of the bunker, staring after him.

_So that just happened._

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/145691410879/1-and-10)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	4. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - redpensandgreenarrows: 1 (chocolate) and 27 (happy birthday). It's Felicity's birthday, but things are still uncertain between them.

Oliver waited until she got there. 

They’d settled into a routine, when it came to their night work. Unless he was out patrolling the city - something that wasn’t really necessary anymore since the fall of Darhk and H.I.V.E. - they rarely spent that much time together at the bunker. She was still figuring out where she stood with Palmer Tech and the board, and his new day job was more than time-consuming, in the best way possible. Their schedules were opposite all of a sudden. Even if they’d wanted to spend more time together, they couldn’t… no matter how much the thought made his stomach fill with butterflies or his palms start sweating.

But today was special. 

He could say something - he already had, in a quick text that he’d shot her that morning, after waiting an appropriate amount of time so she didn’t think he’d done it right when he’d woken up (even though he’d wanted to) - but he couldn’t _give_  her anything. Not anymore. He knew if he tried to it would be too much, too soon, and he didn’t want to push her away anymore than he already had. But he’d still wanted to. He’d wanted to give her something… even if it was just the small chocolate cupcake with a single lit candle and her favorite bottle of wine that were currently sitting on her desk.

_Shit._

It was cheesy. Hokey. Stupid. Idiotic. It was too much, wasn’t it? The wine was too much, and the lit candle. It said he’d thought about it - _planned it_  - which he had, but what if she didn’t like it? What if it _did_  push her away, and he…

The rush of indecision nearly had him stepping out to grab the items before the elevator dinging stopped him.

He knew the second she spotted it.

Felicity paused at the bottom of the raised platform where her desk sat, her eyes on the candle. She looked around, eyes skating right over him where he stood in the shadows, before looking back at the cupcake.

He couldn’t see her face, not in the shadows of the half-lit bunker. He could see her bright hair, down around her shoulders, brushing over her light raincoat, and her white skirt underneath it. He could see the subtle tightening in her shoulders, hear her grip tightening on her bag, feel the air thickening around them.

But he couldn’t see her face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, because if she didn’t like it…

She slowly made her way up, but she didn’t touch the items. She just sat down… and stared at them.

Oliver held his breath, waiting.

Felicity sighed. His lungs burned, every inch of him frozen. She bowed her head, and then she looked up and around. It was then that he saw she was smiling. _She was smiling._ His heart positively _soared_. Her fingers came up, grazing her lips, following the beautiful curve of that smile as her eyes traced every inch of the room, looking for him, like she knew he was there.

Of course she knew he was there. She always knew, somehow.

He didn’t step out though, and she didn’t call him on it.

instead, she whispered, “Thank you.”

Oliver closed his eyes, letting himself smile back at her.  


When he opened his eyes, she was tapping her keyboard, rousing her computers as she picked up the cupcake and started unwrapping it. 

As she took a bite, Oliver stepped back into the shadows, slipping away to the back entrance. He had to bite the tip of his tongue to keep the grin threatening to overtake his face at bay, silently reveling in the faint hint of hope starting to rebuild in his heart.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/145694542349/for-the-ficletdrabble-27-and-1)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul.


	5. Dry Spells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver moves the salmon ladder so it's directly in front of Felicity's desk.
> 
> Prompt - Anonymous: am I to late for this??? what about Grinding? Olicity

Dry spells _sucked._

Felicity’s eyes kept straying, despite herself. 

She was trying, she really was.

Her current dry spell had been going on for a while now, a long while. Okay, longer than a while, like _months and months_ long. She should be used to it - it wasn’t her first dry spell after breaking up with a guy, although this one was definitely the longest. But that wasn’t the only thing that was different this time around. No, it was also the fact that the chip buried at the base of her spine had started working at the exact time she’d broken things off with her fiancé. 

During one of the worst moments of her life she’d finally been able to stand… and she’d used it to walk away from the love of her life. 

It’d taken a few weeks for her to start feeling things below her waist again, bits and pieces, until slowly but surely nearly all sensation had come back. She could finally _feel_ again… and of course it had to happen after she’d broken things off with _him_.

Because _of course_.

The steady clang of metal on metal continued.

And because the universe really hated her, they were still in the bunker, still in the process of finding a permanent new spot - Oliver had vetoed the basement under City Hall, despite her arguments that they were running out of places for the Arrow Cave. It really was the least likely place the bad guys would look, especially since all their other spots had been found at one time or another.

_“It’s too accessible down there.”_

_“Give me some credit, Oliver.”_

But no.

And since they were still down there, they’d decided to consolidate all the important stuff into the main room. H.I.V.E. had done a pretty spectacular job of destroying everything when they’d attacked several weeks ago, and it was easier to have it all centralized until they found a new spot. Easier for moving, and storage and because large parts of the bunker were practically in shambles. 

So everything that had been in a place of questionable structural integrity had moved…

Including the salmon ladder.

Oliver had originally stored it in the far corner, where it’d sat unused and dusty until last week, when he’d moved it. 

To _there_ , right there, right where the conference table had been once upon a time. 

_Right in front of her desk_.

She would have thought he’d done it on purpose except he’d looked completely oblivious when she’d let out a soft choking sound the second she’d seen it earlier that night. He’d looked, almost alarmed, his eyes flying to her, practically dropping his handful of arrows as he’d asked, _“What’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing, nothing, I’m… drinking air. Or breathing air.”_ She’d winced. _“Long day.”_

And then they’d gone about their business. After a few more seconds, she’d dismissed it, because he didn’t go near the ladder, didn’t do anything but start to manually sharpen arrowheads, just like nearly every other night.

That was until he’d glanced up about an hour ago to look at the clock. He’d made a quiet ticking noise deep in his throat before standing up and shedding his shirt. 

He just _took it off_ , like _whatever_.

And then Felicity had spent the last fifty minutes staring at the computer screen, not seeing any of it. About thirty minutes in she’d crossed her legs. Fifteen minutes later, she’d started _shifting_. Moving. _Grinding_. She knew her fingers were moving on the keyboard, knew she was doing something on the computer, but she had no idea what exactly, because all she saw was Oliver… going up, and then back down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

It was supposed to help that he was facing away from her, she was sure of it, and yet it didn’t.

_It was worse._

He’d started out slow, warming up, taking his time, but now he was just  _going._  He paused every few sets, dropping to the floor to catch his breath, sometimes to drink some water, other times to wipe off his face and chest. 

He never looked back at her, almost like she didn’t exist, like he was alone.

Which somehow made it all the more enticing and _easier_ to just  _stare._

Except no, she had work to do, she had scanners to monitor, Palmer Tech leads to follow-up on, because she was suddenly a little aimless without her former CEO position…

Work. She had to work.

But then he’d hop back on, starting all over again, the clang of metal ringing in her ears.

It wasn’t long before her wandering eyes just stayed on him. 

She never needed a reminder of how magnificent a male specimen he was. (Yes, that’s good, she’s approving of his ability to stay fit, not _ogling him._ ) She saw it every day - hell, she’d _had_  that every day, so she knew. She definitely _knew_. 

And yet, the reminder was… 

The way his back muscles moved, contracting and releasing, moving fluidly, his body a finely-tuned instrument of intent, every inch of him honed to perfection for his use in… in whatever fashion he chose to use it in. 

Like… exercise. 

Yes, exercise… exercise that made him sweaty, that made his skin gleam under the lights, a very healthy sheen. Small droplets of sweat slipped down his neck, his shoulders, sliding down over the ridges of muscles, across the burn scar over his lower back… _down even further_. 

His pants weer riding a little low, slipping and slipping, a sure sign that he’d been hanging there for a while on this set and oh… _god_ , it reminded her of how good he tasted, of the breathy gasp he let out whenever she kissed him… when she _licked._.. and…

Felicity didn’t realize her thighs were squeezing together, didn’t realize she was subtly moving her hips just enough to create some sort of friction on her chair, her nails of hand gripping the edge of the desk, the others grazing her neck, completely _lost in her mind_  until she moaned.

She. _Moaned_.

It was tiny, infinitesimal, but it was there and the second she heard it, Felicity was suddenly vividly aware of the low burn of pleasure building between her legs, of the gentle friction of her rotating slightly on the seat, of that fact that she’d spread her legs at some point and was practically _grinding down on her chair._  

For a moment, it almost passed her by, she almost let it go because it felt _good_ , really, really good, even though she was barely moving. But it wasn’t the moving that was doing it for her. 

No, it was watching him. 

It was _remembering_ him. 

That had Felicity freezing because _what is she thinking_ , and a split second later she was standing up, moving so fast it sent her chair flying back.

The sound of her chair rolling back and hitting the opposite desks echoed through the bunker. 

Oliver instantly stopped, dropping off the ladder - he was at the top, the very top and he landed as if he hadn’t just fallen from several feet in the air and _why was that sexy?_  - before spinning towards her. 

His chest was heaving, his mouth open in a pant, his face slick with sweat, his skin flush and it was probably _hot_  to the touch and…

… and his pants were even _lower_.

Would he stop her if she went up to him? If she kissed him, if she undid his pants, slipping her hand inside, just like she used to when he’d be cooking shirtless, wearing those damn sweats he always seemed to wear. What would he do if she…

_What the hell was she thinking?_

“You okay?” Oliver asked.  


Her eyes snapped back up to his face and a heated flush crawled up her neck, little pins and needles that felt like they were covered in fire.

No.  _No, she was not okay_.

“I have to… go,” was all she could manage.  


Oliver furrowed his brow. He ran his hand down his face, wiping away excess sweat.

The sound of his beard rasping against his hands made her shiver.

_It made her shiver_.

God, she needed to get out there _right now_. 

She needed to leave, leave the room, the bunker, the entire building, before she did something really stupid, something she knew she’d regret. Something they’d both regret. She was sure of it. They couldn’t do that, not without it meaning more and she so did not want more, she really didn’t. They’d done that, been there, tried it before, and it hadn’t worked. If this did happen, what _this_  might be - some part of her was wildly amused that she was so confident he wouldn’t say no while another part knew with bone-deep certainty that he wouldn’t stop her - it would ruin everything. 

And things were finally starting to be normal again.

Oliver raised his eyebrows. He took a step towards the platform, his head titling as he asked, “Is everything alright?”

“I forgot I have a thing at the house,” she said abruptly, and way too loudly. And then she winced. “I mean, my house. Not… the house, not like it’s _our_  house. Or even a house at all for that matter. It’s a loft. Our loft. _The_  loft.”  


She really needed to stop doing that, why couldn’t she stop with the  _‘our’_ thing?

He was smiling. He took another step towards her, up the two stairs and she instantly stepped back, away, very far away, because since when had his shoulders gotten so big? And wide, so wide, and his neck was… neck-like and strong and muscly and _he was only coming closer_.

“So I’m just gonna go,” she said, stepping back again, running right into her desk. 

Felicity jumped, spinning around like she was going to yell at it. But it was actually fortuitous because her purse was there, along with her keys and phone. She grabbed them, cradling them against her chest as she looked back at him. 

He’d stopped by her computers, his hands on his hips, his head still cocked… but the smile on his face was…  


_Bad_.

She knew that smile. That was a _very bad smile_. Because it made her insides turn to liquid in a way that was _very bad._

“Felicity…” he started.  


She shivered, _again_ , before blurting, “Okay, bye.”

Felicity spun around just in time to keep herself from falling down the steps. She didn’t look back as she hurried to the elevator, as she pushed the button. She didn’t do anything when the doors slid open but step in and push for the main floor.  


It was only when they were sliding shut that she finally looked back up, only to find him staring at her. His smile was gone, replaced with something far more intense. His hand had migrated up to his opposite shoulder, emphasizing his bicep and forearm in a way that made her suddenly think about how he looked when he was on top of her, towering over her, moving against her…  _inside her_.

Her reaction was instantaneous, and Felicity sighed, but it came out like a whimper. A rush of heat spiraled out from her center, sending a heady rush of need pulsing through her system, flooding her veins, making her skin itch for touch - _his touch_  - emphasizing the sudden throb between her legs.

“Oh boy,” she breathed. This went beyond dry spell. This was… this was just bad. So bad. Too much time spent alone, no longer having the others around for buffers, no longer having an excuse to not look at each other. “Oh boy.”  


Their eyes didn’t break until the doors shutting forced her to look away.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut. 

She hugged her bag closer, digging her nails into her arms, bowing her head, unable to stop herself from sending up a silent prayer she had that one vibrator waiting for her while simultaneously cursing because she knew it wasn’t the same, that it wouldn’t be enough. Because she’d be thinking about him, the entire time, and it’d push her higher - just like it was right then; she could feel the rush of arousal soaking her panties - but it’d only remind her that he wasn’t there…

And that she could ask him. She could ask him… or she could _take_. She knew he wouldn’t stop.

She knew he would probably say yes.

“Oh boy.”  


The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Tumblr Post
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	6. Cookie Dough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - skcolicity: For the olicity 4.5 fic thing: 14: First Kiss (well, not first-first, but first since breaking up :)

She didn’t think about it. She didn’t stop, breathe, process. She didn’t 1-2-3 her way out of it, nor did she stop to question why in the world she ever thought it would be a good idea. Because it wasn’t. She wasn’t ready. They weren’t ready. It was a universally known fact. And yet…

And yet, the second Oliver set her down on the stairs in the loft - after her insistent, “ _I can make it up on my own_ ” - she hadn’t let him go.

She told herself it was because her legs were still weak, because the asshat who’d hacked into the chip buried in her spinal cord had all her nerves doing a wacky dance. That she was actually _hackable_ now. That some parts of her legs had gone numb again and it was freaking her out, even though the tingles making her nerves jolt told her sensation wasn’t far behind.

It wasn’t because he hadn’t stopped touching her since the attack. That his hand was always on her - her arm, her shoulder, her back, brushing her messy hair off her forehead or gripping her sweatshirt. That his fingers trembled, like he couldn’t help himself, like he needed it as bad as she did. It wasn’t because he’d insisted on carrying her, just in case her legs weren’t a hundred percent. It wasn’t because she’d always remember the look of terror on his ashen face, or his whispered, “ _Oh god, Felicity, I thought…_ ” before he’d cut himself off.

It wasn’t because her first thought when she’d regained consciousness had been of him. It wasn’t because when she’d felt her body giving out, a searing regret had washed through her, regret that she hadn’t told him how she felt. That she was wasting all this time not talking, not telling him why she was terrified to be with him again… of her worries that she didn’t really know herself, that she really did need time, but that she was wasting it, wasting all these weeks and months pretending she was okay…

And the very real terror that she’d spend so many more years _pretending_ , not discovering why she wanted to run from him instead of _staying_.

That was why she didn’t let him go. She told herself all of that, over and over… until he said her name.

His voice was quiet, a gentle caress, beautifully familiar and intimate. Felicity shivered. His hands ghosted over her waist, like he wanted to hold her, to make sure she was okay, but he didn’t touch her. He was respecting her desire to do this on her own, despite her death grip on his jacket.

“Felicity…”

His hands landed on her forearms. They slid up to her wrists, covering her hands, like he was going to make her let him go. She only held him tighter.

“Felicity.”

She opened her eyes - _when had she closed them?_ She met his gaze where he stood before her. She was a few steps up already, looking down at him - their roles were reversed. It gave her a strange burst of assurance, something she didn’t even realize she needed.

Felicity opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

She didn’t let him go.

Oliver frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. He licked his lips like he did when he wanted to say something, but was stopping himself. And then she caught a small flicker in his eye. Her heart dropped, but before she could see what it was - before she could realize what she was doing and how she was staring at him - it disappeared, and he was looking at her like her usually did these days.

As partners.

_Friends._

Everything she’d repeatedly told herself she wanted from him.

“I’ll wait until you get upstairs,” he said, his hands dropping. “Is that okay?”

He didn’t wait for a response. Oliver stepped back, in a move that was meant to get her to move her hands. He was close enough that if her legs gave out he would catch her, but far away enough that she could move on her own.

_No._

Felicity gripped him tighter, pulling him back.

Oliver started. “What are you…?” he started, before the words faded. His eyes widened, filling with an uncertainty she’d never seen before. He faltered, his shoulders stiffening, his chest freezing as he stopped breathing…

Felicity almost stopped, but then she saw something else: _anticipation_.

Their eyes met. The air around them was alive with that a heady eagerness, hers melding with his, electricity flying between them. It was tangible and it made her vividly aware of her every breath, of the soft puffs from him, how warm he was through his jacket, how she thought he was trembling… Or was that her?

She didn’t think about what she was doing. She didn’t _care_.

Felicity cupped his face and kissed him.

The instant their lips touched, he gasped.

Adrenaline and love and hope and fear and worry and joy burst in her chest.

Oliver leaned into her, one hand grasping at her forearm, the other slipping around her waist as he stepped closer. For an instant, all she was aware of was how _big_ he was as he wrapped himself around her, taking over everything without even trying… but at the same time, he was somehow making himself smaller.

He was following her lead, completely. He melted against her, holding on, and when she slanted her head, he followed. His fingers gripped her tighter, his lips parting under hers, waiting…

With a soft whimper, she opened for him.

Oliver sighed, the sound ending in a quiet whine as he pulled her bottom lip between his. He tentatively ran his tongue over it, tasting her. Felicity met him halfway, angling his head as she deepened the kiss. The moan he gave her made her shiver. She slid one hand up along his jaw, her fingers brushing against his ear, over his soft hair, his stubble scraping against her palm.

She couldn’t tell who was shaking or if neither of them were as they kissed. She’d missed this, the easy intimacy, the quiet passion that built to blinding levels, the intensity that left her vibrating with a need more powerful than anything she’d felt before. It surged through her, leaving her scattered in a million pieces while at the same time binding her together, an unbreakable bond that was half her and half him.

Felicity poured everything into the kiss, wanting him to feel what she was feeling… and he did. She felt his love for her in his every touch, in his deference, in the gentle way he held her, all that power and strength that he radiated yielding to her.

It was intoxicating, addicting. Her head spun with the need for oxygen and the need to never let him go, not ever again…  

But it wasn’t the right time.

A sharp stab hit her right in her chest at that realization. She wanted it; she missed him, so badly it made her bones ache, but some part of her knew that it wouldn’t last, just like before. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. Felicity had no idea if it was because she wasn’t ready, or because she wasn’t sure if she could ever trust him again, or if there was something else…

She didn’t _know_ , not yet anyway… and she needed time to figure it out. _Time_. She needed time, and she was ready to take it now, to take that important step towards their future.

That had warmth filling her chest.

With a choked gasp, Felicity pulled back, but she didn’t let him go.

Oliver stayed right where he was in the circle of her arms. His breath danced over her lips and cheeks, his chest pressing against her sternum as he fought for air. She could feel his heart pounding; it matched hers.

Felicity held him tighter, leaning into him as she pressed her forehead against his. He whispered her name, hugging her, pulling her close. She wrapped her arms around his head, cradling him, pressing her lips to his temple, his hair, simply holding each other. For a long while, neither moved, didn’t say anything, both of them somehow realizing that this wasn’t it, this wasn’t the beginning of their forever together.

But it was a promise, because now wasn’t the right time. She wasn’t ready for this - for _them_ \- but she would be. She knew it with a certainty that she felt in her core, because he was the _one_. He was what she saw when she closed her eyes at night. He was what she thought about when she first woke up. He was the person she wanted to call and talk to about _everything_ , from the mundane, trivial things, just like they used to, to life-altering decisions. He was the one she wanted to be better for, the person she wanted to grow with, learn with, _be with_ …

But he was also the reason she ran.

She didn’t want to run anymore.

It wasn’t going to happen overnight - what she needed to go through or what she wanted with him - but she was ready now. To figure herself out. To get through whatever was blocking her from forgiving him, from being with him.

 _Buffy_ popped into her head.

“I’m cookie dough,” she whispered abruptly.

Oliver paused. She could hear the wheels turning in his head, trying to make sense of that. He pulled back to look up at her. “You’re what?”

“I’m cookie dough,” she repeated. “I’m not done baking.” He furrowed his brow, still not following, but he didn’t push, because he knew she’d explain. He always knew; he’d always known her. “I’m like Buffy. I’m cookie dough. I need time to bake, to figure out all the parts of me that need figuring… like the parts of me that can’t let go of what happened with William.”

Oliver darkened with sorrow. He closed his eyes, his face shuttering. Felicity stopped breathing, wondering if she was pushing him away by bringing up the one thing they never, ever talked about… but if he couldn’t take this, if she couldn’t be honest about it, then they really didn’t have a chance.

That wasn’t the case though, because when Oliver looked at her again, that shutter was gone. And he was showing her _everything_. No more hiding. No more lies.

“Cookie dough,” he repeated.

“Cookie dough.” She stared at him. “I need time. To bake. To become cookies.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Felicity frowned. “But that’s just it, Oliver. I don’t know how long it’ll take. I think that’s why I’ve been not doing anything, I’ve been… not baking. I’ve been stuck in cookie dough mode because once I start I don’t know when I’ll be done. I just know that one day… that someday, I’ll turn around and I’ll be cookies. I think part of why I’m not baking is because I’m afraid it’ll really be over.” Her voice cracked at that. “Because I want you to be the one to eat me. _Cookie_ me, I mean. To eat cookie me.”

Oliver chuckled. It was quiet, sad… but it was also filled with resolve. “I’ll wait as long as you need, Felicity.”

“Even if it takes a decade?”

“Even if it takes three.”

“Oliver, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not.”

“But…”

“Felicity,” Oliver breathed before he cut her off with a kiss.

This one was chaste, simple; it was colored with a sadness that she felt so strongly that tears burned her eyes.

It was sadness because both of them knew that this would be the last one for a long, long time.

She held him tight, pushing herself flush against him, letting herself revel.

Oliver finally broke away. She followed him, her breath hitching, not wanting it to end despite knowing it had to. He didn’t go very far. His lips trembled against hers, neither willing to move just yet.

“You’re the one, Felicity,” he whispered. He pulled back, bringing his hand up to brush over her cheek. “You are my always. Time won’t change that.”

Before she could answer, he stepped back.

Felicity didn’t stop him this time.

They didn’t say anything, because there was nothing left to say.

He waited, just like he said he would, until she was upstairs. It took her longer than she would’ve liked. Her legs felt like they were made of liquid instead of anything solid - she honestly wasn’t sure if it was because of what’d just happened between them, or if it really was her chip going haywire \- but she made it.

When she reached the top, Felicity glanced back at him. “Thank you.”

She wasn’t just thanking him for waiting, for being there all night, for making sure she made it up the stairs.

She hoped he could hear her silent, _‘I love you.’_

“You never, ever have to thank me.” He smiled. “I’m always here.”

_‘I love you too.’_

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having an issue reconciling canon Olicity with what I want them to do over Season 4.5, because there’s so much that needs to be fixed between them. It doesn’t help that we got next to no movement relationship-wise in 4B, so jumping from that into any sort of action between them is sending me face-first into a brick wall because it no make sensey. _I’m trying._
> 
> This was partly inspired by EBR’s recent comments about Felicity needing to grow and change on her own before Olicity can really happen again, because it’s so on-point. Plus, any opportunity to use Buffy? Yes, please.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/146143489119/for-the-olicity-45-fic-thing-14-first-kiss)


	7. Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Anonymous - Olicity: fever

_She was wearing shorts._

Oliver froze at the entrance to the filing room.

A heatwave had rolled into Star City the week before and it wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. And the first day it hit triple digits, the one air conditioning unit on the roof had stopped working. Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, except for the fact that Oliver had taken part of the budget for City Hall repairs and allotted it to rebuilding parks in certain sections of the Glades. That meant until next month, the only circulation the entire building was getting was from fans he’d bought for each floor.

The fans did exactly _nothing_. The only good they did was circulating humid air from one room to another. It was manageable, at least for him - spending a significant amount of time on an island in the North China Sea gave you a tolerance for most weather, just by virtue of rarely having shelter. He could still wear his suit to work and get away with rolling his sleeves up, sweating it out until he could take a cold shower.

Not everyone felt the same way.

And that apparently included Felicity, who was spending her suddenly ample free daytime helping him get old files digitized since she was still fighting the board for her CEO position back… and who also currently had her back to him where she was bent over over at the waist, digging through an old, crumbling box.

Oliver’s jaw dropped.

He barely managed a choked breath.

She was wearing tight green shorts and a t-shirt that barely reached them. Her hair was up in a loose ponytail, leaving strands dangling around her face, dancing in the air from the fan in the corner.

He told himself to keep moving - _to get away from her_ \- but it was like his feet had glued themselves to the floor. And his eyes, his traitorous goddamn eyes, they followed the slender line of her neck, drinking her in, from the curve of her waist down to the round globes of her ass.

Oliver nearly bit his tongue off when he saw how far her shorts had ridden up, exposing the soft underside of her cheeks.

(He’d never forget how sensitive they were. She always giggled when he kissed her there, trying to get away from his touch like it tickled, before the sensation from his wet kisses took over. He used to drag his tongue around each one and then down the back of her thighs, delighting in the way her muscles would quiver. By the time he was done, she’d be a trembling mess, her hips moving against the mattress or floor, wherever they happened to be, seeking friction to ease the arousal he’d built up in her.

Sometimes he’d slip his hand between her thighs right there, pressing his fingers between her wet folds until her found her entrance; other times he would lift her up onto her knees, taking her from behind; sometimes he rolled her over, crawling up her body before sliding into her with practiced ease, loving the way she looked as he filled her before all coherent thought disappeared as her silken walls gripped him so perfectly… )

He damn near crumpled the file folder he held as his gut clenched, tightening, a swath of heat cutting through him. It was so potent it gave him chills, and it was a heady contrast to the humidity in the air.

 _Keep moving_.

He didn’t budge. Felicity was completely unaware of him, only moving slightly, widening her stance just enough as she leaned over to throw something away.

This was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn’t _move_.

It’d been a long, long time since Oliver had been a slave to temptation around him. His entire life since he’d gotten back from the island had been about control, as much as he could exert. When something was within his realm, he kept it on a tight leash, as much as possible. But when it came to Felicity… It was so much more _primal_. She spoke to something _base_ , something deeply buried within him, something stronger than his common sense. Having to be around her on a near-constant basis, always so close but never close enough, smelling her, seeing her beautiful smile, remembering everything they’d shared… it was one of the purest forms of torture he’d ever experienced, and one he found himself far too willing to give into.

The last time she’d worn shorts like that had been in Bali.

She’d been bent over, just like she was now, but she’d been leaning against the railing of their balcony then, watching the waves crashing over the beach. The sun had been setting behind her. It’d been an especially hot day, leaving the air thick with heat, and the dying rays had lit up her toned curves, highlighting the light sheen of sweat all over her. The humidity had done no favors to her hair, something she’d countered by keeping it up in a messy bun most of the time, but her skin…

It made her so touchable.

Kissable.

Lickable…

_Oliver only had eyes for the tiny drop of sweat sliding down the center of her back. She’d tied her tank top into a tight knot just under her breasts, leaving her midriff open to his hungry gaze. She was still sunburned from the day before, but it was quickly turning into a tan that made his mouth water._

_The bead of sweat slipped underneath the band of tight coral shorts she wore._

_He gripped the glass of water in his hands, reveling in the ice cold against his palm. The movement had ice cubes clinked together lightly, but she didn’t hear it. A breeze brushed over them, and she took a deep breath, as did Oliver - it was the smell of the ocean, the fruit trees hanging along the edge of their cabin, the hint of barbeque in the distance… and her._

_Switching the glass to his left hand, Oliver dipped his fingers into it with his right, grabbing a few ice cubes. They slipped between his fingers - the water felt damn good, but he was no longer thirsty for just water._

_He wanted her._

_He wanted to taste her._

_Palming the cubes, Oliver set the glass down on the ground, well out of the way before closing the distance between them._

_He didn’t give her any warning._

_Keeping the cubes in his right, Oliver pressed his left hand flush against her lower back. His skin was still cold from the glass and Felicity gasped, jerking up with a start._

_“What are you…?” she breathed, but her words died off as he pushed his hand up along her spine, up under her tank top - she wasn’t wearing a bra, and fuck, that had his entire body tightening with the need to rip her shirt off._

_Before she could so much as say his name, Oliver leaned over and placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss right above the band of her shorts._

_Felicity shivered._

_He didn’t take his time, he didn’t pause to see how else she’d react or wait to see what she did - he already knew. He voraciously licked and nipped his way across the skin just above the band, moaning at her taste, enjoying the delicious whimpers she gave him… especially when he dragged his stubble over the sensitive skin there._

_“Oliver,” she groaned. It was breathless and needy, and she pushed herself up onto her toes to get closer to his mouth. The wanton move had him sinking his teeth into her tender flesh and she gasped. Her muscles contracted, and he knew she was squeezing her thighs together, especially when her hips rolled back against him._

_“Lean forward more,” he said, his voice low, gravely. He knew how much she loved that - she’d told him one morning when he’d woken up with a raspy voice that it reminded her of when he had his modulator on. (He’d then proceeded to spend the entire day whispering naughty things in her ear using that voice until she’d been begging him to get inside her.)_

_She looked back at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow._

_He raised his in return, smiling as he whispered, “Just a little bit.”_

_Felicity bent forward, her back making a flat surface. It was perfect to hold his ice cubes._

_The instant he set them on her heated skin, she jumped with a gasped, “Oh!” almost knocking them off._

_“Easy,” he said._

_As she breathed his name in question, wondering what he was up to, he slipped both hands around her to undo her shorts. When his cool wet fingers of his right hand brushed over her belly button, she inhaled sharply. He undid the button, pulling her zipper down before peeling her shorts off. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Oliver groaned her name, his cock twitching with need. She was completely bare to him._

_The ice cubes trembled right along with her, but she didn’t move, keeping them in place. They slowly melted, sending little rivulets of water over her skin, down her sides, dripping to the floor._

_“Oliver…”_

_His response was to cup one hand over the cubes and slide them down, sending melted water down her backside. It slipped over her ass, sliding between her cheeks, making her shudder._

_Oliver moved the ice over her back, pressing his other hand between her thighs._

_She was pure heat there, and she was already so wet._

_“God, Felicity,” he sighed._

_He moaned right along with her as he found her clit, earning him a sharp, “Aah!” from her. He slipped the hand with ice along her feverish skin. He went down her hip, sending water cascading down her leg. The disparity between the warmth of her wet sex and the burning cold of the ice against his other hand was almost too intense._

_With a guttural moan, Felicity let go of the balcony railing. She fell back against him, her hands covering his. “Harder,” she gasped, rocking her hips against his fingers as she pushed the ice over her stomach, pressing it closer. “Yes…”_

_She shifted, just enough so his cock pressed right between her ass cheeks._

_Oliver moaned, wrapping himself more fully around her, nearly stumbling forward against the railing in his urgency to feel more of her. His face dropped into her neck, her head falling back against his shoulder, giving him all the access he could want. He licked and kissed up to her pulse point and she turned her face towards him, her lips wrapping around his earlobe._

_It had him hissing, his hips jerking against hers._

_One second they were writhing against each other, their moans muffled against the other, and in the next his shorts were down and he was stepping back, bending her over even further. He gripped her hips, wrapping his hand around him, pressing himself to her clenching entrance, the sound of her needy whimpers filling the air…_

Felicity’s soft grunt sliced through the memory as she lifted a box, tossing it away. It landed with a heavy thud, jerking him back to reality.

Oliver jumped, and the second he realized he was still staring at her, his eyes snapped shut.

What was he _doing_?

(He could still feel the firm press of her body against his, still smell the sweet scent of her skin, taste it, feel the stark difference between her heat and the ice, her fingers tangling with his as she directed his moves. And _god_ , she’d fallen to pieces when he’d pressed the ice between the legs as he’d thrust into her…)

He had to get out of there.

With a shaky breath, Oliver stepped back. He’d brought the folder up to add to her growing collection, but when he glanced down at it, he knew he needed a new one. It was nearly destroyed from his grip. Letting it go, he grimaced at the sight of it before turning away.

“Oliver?”

His heart stopped. She’d caught him.

“Yeah?” he immediately answered. His voice was uneven, but that didn’t stop him from looking back in the room.

Felicity was looking back at him, her face inscrutable. Her brow was furrowed, like she was seeing something that didn’t quite compute. It took him too long to realize that he was _sweltering_ \- his skin was flush and all he suddenly wanted to do was rip his goddamn tie off.

He returned her gaze, and he knew the instant the comprehension hit her because she blushed.

_Fuck._

“I didn’t… I wasn’t…” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she replied, a little breathlessly.

But she _knew_.

Oliver opened his mouth to reply, but there was nothing to say.

He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat as the air between them became more and more charged, with all the unsaid things in this very moment, yes, but also with all the unsaid things that had been cropping up for months now. Not just about their relationship or their future, but the growing tension, the tension that was growing more and more taut with each day because it was just them now, alone, all the time. It was a tension he saw in her small frame, in her jerky movements, in the way her eyes lingered on him and how sometimes she didn’t look away fast enough.

It was all the things he tried so damn hard to not linger on, because if he did, it gave him _hope_ , and he couldn’t handle having those crushed again, he _couldn’t._

He moved to speak, to say something, and he honestly had no idea what was about to come out when a voice from down the hallway interrupted him.

“Mr. Queen?”

His head whipped towards his assistant. “Yes?”

“The Police Chief is here to see you.”

“Right.” He nodded, but it was more of a shake as he tore himself from whatever the _hell_ he’d been about to say. “Right. Thank you. I’ll be right down.” 

He glanced back in the room. Felicity had moved enough so she was facing him now, but that was it. They stared at each other for a long moment, the air growing thicker, neither moving, neither speaking.

And then she licked her lips. It was an unconscious move, one he was sure she wasn’t aware of, one that not sexual in the least. Still, his eyes instantly dropped to her mouth.

Oliver let out a quick short gasp, giving himself away more than he’d ever intended, and the instant he realized what he was doing, he forced himself to look away. He couldn’t stand to look at her, couldn’t stand to see what she was thinking. He was falling apart, and he couldn’t find a way to stop it, not with her always there, while she looked like everything was right in her world.

That was a knife to the gut.

She didn’t say anything more and neither did he.

Instead, Oliver glanced down at the crumpled file folder, remembering why he’d come up here.

“This is… for you,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “For the filing.”

Finding the closest flat surface he could without having to actually step into the room, Oliver set the folder down before turning, leaving.

She didn’t stop him and he didn’t let himself look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m incapable of writing anything without at least a little angst right now. This wasn't _exactly_ fever, but let's roll with it. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
>  
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/146315023154/olicity-fever)


	8. Smudged Lipstick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That magical time of the year is back: [MTV'S Ship of the Year](http://www.mtv.com/fandom-awards/vote/ship-of-the-year/)! You know, where we all reblog the same thing over and over and over and over because each note = one vote. But hopefully it isn't too bad because little goodies on each post make it worthwhile!
> 
> [This is my first drabble - please reblog, if you wish!](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/147252291144/mtv-vote-now-for-ship-of-the-year-by-liking-and)

Her lipstick was smudged. 

It was a tiny little blur of pink along her top lip, nothing that would have caught his attention except for the fact that he still found himself staring at her lips when he thought she wasn’t looking. And not just because he missed her, them, missed how they felt, but because he still loved how they moved when she smiled, or when she pursed them, or when she whispered to herself. It was because he still spent downtime decoding why she’d chosen the color she had for a specific day, because before - when they’d been together - it’d been a pretty good indicator of what kind of day she was already having when she got ready in the morning.

But today he didn’t notice the color or the way she bit her lip or how her lips formed his name.

Because her lipstick was smudged.

She’d come in for the night, ready to be Overwatch, and her lipstick was smudged.

His stomach hollowed out.

Was she seeing someone?

“Oliver? One-two-three? Hello? Do you hear me?”  


New comms. She was testing the comms.

“Yeah,” he croaked. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Yeah. I hear you. We’re good.”  


Felicity smiled. “Great. Let’s go get some bad guys.”

(After leaving Palmer Tech, she’d had every intention of getting dinner and going home before coming in tonight. Instead, she’d wound up wandering around downtown, staring absently into windows, her mind trying to decipher how things had changed between her and Oliver. Because The Butterflies were back, the ones she used to get around him before, before everything had fallen apart. When she’d realize how late it was, she’d rushed, grabbing food and eating on the way to the bunker. The smudge was from wiping her mouth with her thumb because she hadn’t grabbed napkins.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/147252291144/mtv-vote-now-for-ship-of-the-year-by-liking-and)


	9. Burgers and a Milkshake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late-night visit to Big Belly Burger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That magical time of the year is back: [MTV'S Ship of the Year](http://www.mtv.com/fandom-awards/vote/ship-of-the-year/)! You know, where we all reblog the same thing over and over and over and over because each note = one vote. But hopefully it isn't too bad because little goodies on each post make it worthwhile!
> 
> [This is my first drabble - please reblog, if you wish!](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/147255100949/mtv-vote-now-for-ship-of-the-year-by-liking-and)

It was nearing midnight when their food arrived at Big Belly Burger. 

Felicity was talking…

“I think my brain is starting to melt…” She waved at her ear, making a face. “Right out of here. I can feel it, just disappearing.”

… and Oliver was chuckling at the imagery - more specifically at the way her nose scrunched, and how stuck around longer than usual when she was really tired, like they both were tonight. It’d been a long week of chasing a new Big Bad (something Felicity had started calling their foes), a persona who’d been just as elusive in person as in the internet world. But they’d finally caught up with them - it’d been a him and a her. Now it was time for some food and then much needed rest.

“That sounds messy,” Oliver replied, glancing over when he spotted Johny carrying their plates over. It smelled heavenly.  


“It is,” Felicity said with a shrug. She leaned on the table with a tired sigh. “Brains are messy.”

It was so ridiculously simple and cute and matter-of-fact that Oliver couldn’t help chuckling again, and this time it elicited a matching one from Felicity.

“Here we go, you two,” Johny said, dropping off their baskets. “I’ll be right back with the rest.”  


“You’re a blessing,” Felicity called after her as the waitress disappeared. She grabbed the ketchup and mustard. “I never know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing when you can walk into a place and they just know what you want.”

“A good thing,” Oliver supplied, taking the ketchup after her. “You are pretty memorable with that ketchup/mustard swirl.”  


“It’s delicious,” Felicity said, dunking a fry just as Johny appeared again.

“Alright,” she said with flourish, dropping off one large chocolate milkshake. The keyword there being _one_. “Anything else?”  


Oliver and Felicity both froze, staring at the single milkshake. It hadn’t been that long since they’d been here together, had it? It’d been _months_? Really? This had been their usual order when they’d been together - two burgers, extra fries and one milkshake, to _share._  

_(”Because calories are better when they’re shared.”)_

He had no idea if he should say yes or ask for another one.

Felicity saved him.

“It’s great,” she said, breaking eye contact with the milkshake first. She smiled at Johny. “Thanks, J.”  


“Enjoy.”  


With a smile that looked a little too forced, Felicity grabbed the straw and tore it open before dunking it into the shake. She took a healthy drink, her dark pink lips wrapped around the straw so very intimately. 

Oliver didn’t move, not until she met his eyes again. It was only when he saw her smile that he finally let himself take a breath. She slid the shake over to him and he caught it easily, taking a sip.

And then they continued talking, as if nothing had happened.

It was easier than he thought it would, easy and natural.

They were okay. 

They were going to _be_  okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
> 
>  
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/147255100949/mtv-vote-now-for-ship-of-the-year-by-liking-and)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


End file.
